The New Standard of Masculine Perfection
by Donuthole
Summary: Woke up on Banks’ lawn. Odd. Can’t remember last night. Not surprised. Charlie and Guy next to me. Creepy. Realized I’m naked. Indignant. Realized they’re naked. Disgusted. Sat up to see entire Banks family staring at us. Yikes.
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: I don't own the Mighty Ducks. I do, however, own the madness that is the next few pages._

_This is a companion piece to my saga. It's from the viewpoint of one of my OCs, Dylan Howard. You can just read it if you want, but I'd strongly advise you to go read the others. Or if you're feeling rather ornery, you can just not read it and go get yourself a nice cup of tea and a nap_.

– **The New Standard of Masculine Perfection –**

_Prelude_

* * *

He had set a new record.

Only thirty six hours and forty five minutes after leaving Eden Hall, Dylan Thomas Howard was bored out of his mind.

Hence, he had resorted to climbing up a tree to flick prunes into his neighbor's yard. After that overgrown troll had threatened to call the police if Dylan knocked over his trashcans again, the teenager felt as though he deserved all the dried prunes that now littered his prized lawn.

"Dylan, darling? Dylan! Stop that!" He turned to see his mother standing at the door, her hands on her hips and looking quite exasperated. "Honestly, Mr. Dockings has done nothing wrong to warrant this sort of behavior."

"He's a right douchebag, mummy dearest." The blond boy answered cheekily, flipping over the tree branch to dangle from his knees. As he felt the blood rush to his face, he crossed his eyes at her, knowing it would infuriate her to no end.

"Dylan Thomas Howard, you get out of that tree this instant! I did not raise you this far to have you fall and break your neck!"

"Fine." He grumbled, dropping to the ground with a thud. "I'm bored. Play with me."

Charlotte Howard rolled her eyes. Seventeen years old, somehow spoiled rotten, and acted as though he was still five. That was her son, alright. "Go walk the dog."

"Willy? As if." Dylan snorted, glaring over at the massive Rottweiler who bared his teeth in return. "That monster can walk himself." The dog was his best friend's, who was currently off doing God knows what in Russia. He wouldn't voluntarily have anything to do with something that ugly.

His mother tutted. "He's not so bad. He's almost affectionate at times."

"That's cause you're the one that feeds him. And you sort of look like Maddie. Except for the fact you're not Asian."

"Fine." Charlotte sighed, brushing a dark strand of hair out of her face. Funny how her son could make her more exasperated than a court room full of stodgy old lawyers. But that was parenting, she supposed. "Don't you have anything to do?"

"No."

"Dylan, I have a huge merger to work on. Go to your room, read a book, watch a movie, anything, _please_."

Giving her a scowl, he nonetheless went into the huge house. Women. The things he did for them.

Immediately, he knew something was wrong.

Dylan stopped in the entrance, his grey eyes narrowed as they swept across his suite. The bed…the desk…the magazines…the coffee table…the sofa…the boxes he still had to unpack…a fair mountain of dirty laundry…broken drum set…bookcase…wait.

He almost screamed in horror. His drum set! His beautiful drum set! It was in ruins! The bass drum had a big fat hole in the center, the pedals were dismantled, the snare was nowhere to be found! The monsters! His precious snare!

"It's gone until further notice." He whirled around to meet the silver eyed visage of his sister.

"_You_." Dylan snarled, his eyes darkening with wrath.

Christina Grace Howard didn't even flinch at her little brother's anger even though he towered over her. The little prick needed to learn the world didn't revolve around him. "You'll get it back, along with your cymbals, after the summer. I don't think you realize this but the rest of us like having our eardrums stay intact."

"Hey, at least I have rhythm!"

"And you're inhumanly _loud_. Figures the only instrument you had an aptitude for was one that drives everyone else crazy."

"Tina…give me my shit." He growled as he advanced upon her smaller frame.

"Bite me." She sneered, walking over to his mirror. Pulling out some lip gloss, she carefully applied it before speaking. "For goodness sake, Dylan, find something to do. Or, given your track record, _someone_."

Dylan choked, the tips of his ears turning scarlet. "Shut up!"

"My, aren't we mature? I must say, I'm surprised you haven't hidden a girl in here by now."

"Tina…I'm warning you…"

"Why don't you go over to Jake Riley's?"

"No! I want my shit!"

"Or better yet, go work on college applications." Christina continued, heedless of his growing temper. "Have you even decided where you're applying?"

"It's my life! Stay the fu-"

"You're just a barrel of angst today, aren't you? I really have no idea how you get so much action. Are those girls deaf or just stupid?"

"Fuck you! Give me my shit!"

She rolled her eyes, unconsciously echoing her dark haired mother's action. "Don't you have _any _friends? Do you want to come with me to the Banks'? You can chill with Adam for a bit."

Dylan snorted in disgust. "Yeah, while you and big Banks get it on? Spare me, I just had lunch. By the way, I'm still trying to comprehend your relationship with him and failing miserably. Granted, he's a lot cooler than Banks."

Christina allowed herself a tiny smile of adoration. Who would've thought Andrew Banks would make her so happy? And to think, he had been living under her nose her entire life! "Isn't he wonderful?" She beamed dreamily, already moving towards the door. "Are you sure you don't want to see Adam?"

"No, he said that he needed a break from us and that we weren't allowed to contact him for a week unless it was an emergency." He grumbled bitterly.

"Oh, alright then. College apps, Dylan!"

"Tina? Tina!" Dylan almost stamped his foot with irritation as his sister calmly waltzed out the door. No one was working with him, were they? So he did what he usually did in times of desperation.

"_**Daddy!!**_"

* * *

A cuff on the head and a scathing retort later, Dylan found himself climbing up the steps to his suite huffily. His mother was working on a case, his father was off making money or something, Christina was doing the dirty with Adam's older brother, there was no one left!

Yanking his door open, he stalked over to his couch and collapsed on it. At least he was in his own rooms again. The living situation at Eden Hall hadn't been bad but it was nice to come back to his king size bed.

Almost absently, he surveyed the décor. Black leather furniture, polished chrome finishing, ebony wood, grey silk sheets with touches of pure white for an accent. The monochromatic palette fit him.

His attention was then snagged on a flash of brown. Now _that_ most definitely did not fit. Dylan frowned, squinting slightly at the offending object.

With a grumbled sigh, he got up and lifted it out of the box. Oh.

The journal lay innocently in his hands, the late afternoon sunlight making its brown leather exterior gleam.

Dylan stared at it suspiciously, the giver's words ringing through his mind.

_I think it'll be good for you. You keep too many feelings inside. Write them down. It'll clear your mind. It may even improve your game_.

Warily, he opened the cover. True to his suspicions, there was another note from the girl inside.

_Dylan. _

_If you're reading this right now, you're probably bored out of your mind and have nothing else to do anyway. So stop annoying everyone around you and WRITE. _

_If it's any sort of motivation, just think of the joy your future progeny will have when he finds this in the future. He'll have a glimpse into your world and see the joys of Australia, Russia and the Goodwill Games from an athlete's perspective! Let your imagination run wild! _

_Just do it, you little bitch, and leave your poor family alone. _

_Love, Jules_

The blond scowled.

Julie Gaffney, you're a manipulative, psychobabbling whoreface.

He pursed his lips in contemplation. That was actually quite catchy. It had a nice ring to it. Good job, Dylan.

Happily, he texted the mutinous message to the goalie before tugging the journal towards him.


	2. Chapter 2

_Disclaimer: I actually do own Dylan. Not the Ducks though. That's all Disney._

– **The New Standard of Masculine Perfection –**

– _I. Allegro non molto –_

* * *

_**Wednesday, June 6**__**th**__**, 2007**_

I'm writing in a god damn diary.

It's not even real leather.

I hate Julie. And myself.

But Julie a little bit more.

* * *

_**Thursday, June 7**__**th**__**, 2007**_

_10:43 AM_

Woke up.

Bored.

_Again_.

Craving chocolate chip pancakes. Where's mini-Duck when you need her?

_1:32 PM _

Tried to do laundry.

Failed miserably.

Socks are now pink.

Furious.

_2:08 PM_

Tried to cook.

Set fire alarms off.

Tina yelled at me. Blah blah blah.

Still hungry.

_3:17 PM_

Turned everything in the fridge upside down.

Then went into Tina's bathroom and did it to her medicine cabinet.

Took three shoes from her closet on the way out.

All are from different pairs. Drives girls crazy.

Extremely satisfied.

_5:54 PM _

Wondering what everyone else is doing.

Bored.

_11:29 PM_

Watched High School Musical for the seventh time.

Vanessa Hudgens annoying.

Zac Efron pansy ass bitch.

Whole movie aggravating.

Why do I like it so much?

_1:01 AM_

Can't fall asleep.

What the hell is Maggot doing that she can't call once in awhile?

Pissed.

* * *

_**Friday, June 8**__**th**__**, 2007**_

_12:06 AM _

Look at yesterday's entry.

And repeat.

Disney Channel is oddly addicting.

Hannah Montana is hot.

Wonder how old she is…and if she likes blonds.

Curious.

* * *

_**Saturday, June 9**__**th**__**, 2007**_

_1:24 PM _

Desperate times call for desperate measures.

I'm calling Riley.

_1:34 PM_

House party tonight. Starts at nine and features sex, drugs, and rock and roll.

And booze. Lots and lots of booze.

Haven't seen these people since I started rooming with the Ducks.

Apprehensive.

_9:01 PM_

Going stir-crazy.

I might as well go, right?

Right.

I'll be fashionably late.

* * *

_**Sunday, June 10**__**th**__**, 2007**_

_10:58 AM_

I'm in a bed.

I don't think this is my bed.

Actually…I don't really know where I _am._

I think I need to go back to sleep.

Hung over.

_11:02 AM_

Forgot to mention it before…but there seems to be a girl in my bed.

And she's topless.

Intrigued.

_1:28 PM_

Her name's Jenna.

And she's _very _nice.

Happy. 

_7:46 PM_

Came home for dinner.

Parents asked where I was.

Said I was bonding with Jake because I miss him so _so_ much.

Mommy got all misty-eyed.

Awkward.

_7:51 PM_

Tina told me to cover up my hickeys.

Jenna apparently thinks she's a vampire.

_10:03 PM_

Meeting Riley & Co. again.

Those people aren't so bad.

Even Allie was nice to me last night.

But then again…she's probably just missing her cowboy.

Slut.

* * *

_**Monday, June 11**__**th**__**, 2007**_

_3:41 PM_

Got an email from Maddie.

She's good.

Tired but good.

She misses me.

Naturally.

_11:11 PM_

I wish for that lovely little brunette standing near the keg.

The one in the coral colored dress.

_11:19 PM_

Damn, you are _fast_.

Impressed.

p.s. Her name is Naomi.

_11:47 PM_

And she's got very nice tits.

Gratified.

* * *

_**Tuesday, June 12**__**th**__**, 2007**_

_2:18 PM_

Daddy booked me a plane ticket to Russia.

Then he told me I was wasting my life away.

I have _no_ clue what he's talking about.

_9:09 PM_

Dean Buckley sent me and Carmen an email.

He wants to instate uniforms.

I think I'll let Carmen handle this. Uniforms aren't necessarily such a bad idea, you know.

After all, those slacks would make my ass look unbelievable.

* * *

_**Wednesday, June 13**__**th**__**, 2007**_

_9:31 AM_

Woke up to phone at ungodly hour.

It's Rivera.

She's mad.

Guess she's read the email about uniforms.

_9:46 AM_

Rivera's yelling woke Bethany.

She hung up on her.

_Bethany_ hung up on _Carmen_.

I'm so dead.

_9:52 AM_

Bethany doesn't understand why I'm contemplating suicide.

She probably doesn't understand a lot of things.

Asked her to leave.

Rivera hasn't called me back.

Not that I care or anything.

_10:43 PM_

Doesn't Tricia Manning live in Vegas?

Guess she's visiting.

Wonder if she's still mad at me.

_11:56 PM_

She's not mad at me.

At all.

She's made that _very_ clear.

* * *

_**Thursday, June 14**__**th**__**, 2007**_

_1:14 PM_

Oh fuck me.

I did it with Tricia Manning.

Twice.

I hate myself.

_2:06 PM _

My exit wasn't as graceful as I would have liked.

Grabbing my pants and sneaking out through the back door is hardly what I'd consider suave.

The tire screeching of my departure was kind of cool, though.

_2:12 PM_

I crashed.

Dylan's car go vroom vroom…and then boom! Right into tree.

I'm unhurt and alive.

That's all that matters, right?

_4:28 PM_

Apparently not.

Daddy's angry.

_Really_ angry.

He said he's going to hurt me himself if I don't stop saying that I'm unhurt.

_4:41 PM_

Spit flies out of his mouth when he yells.

Mommy's going to have to wipe the table all over again.

Disgusted.

_4:56 PM_

I obviously share Mommy's genes in the anger department.

Daddy looks deranged and rabid.

How uncouth.

_5:11 PM_

Asked when my car is going to be fixed.

Daddy looked like he was about to have an aneurysm so I ran away.

_7:01 PM_

Wasn't allowed to have dinner with the family.

Tina brought me soup in my room.

I hate soup.

Poured it out the window.

_8:13 PM _

Soup hit Daddy's newly washed car.

The Mercedes-Benz now looks like an advertisement for Mercedes-Beans.

Self-preservation starting to kick in.

I'm sleeping over at Riley's tonight.

_9:29 PM_

Riley wanted to know why he had to come pick me up.

Told him Daddy wanted to kill me.

Not good enough for him. The nosy bastard.

Told him I might have totaled my car.

Asshole won't stop laughing.

_10:57 PM_

Somehow everyone knows about my accident.

I think I'm just going to find solace in alcohol.

_11:32 PM_

Girls want to know if I'm okay.

I am now.

Extremely self-satisfied.

* * *

_**Friday, June 15**__**th**__**, 2007**_

_10:38 AM_

Ventured back home.

Tina's laughing for some reason.

Suspicious.

_11:43 AM_

Daddy's smiling.

Says he has a present in the garage for me.

My car?

Giddy.

_11:44 AM_

I _hate_ him.

This is an outrage.

I refuse to be party to this abject humiliation.

It's a shiny, hot pink bicycle.

_12:07 PM_

I'm sulking.

Don't interrupt me.

_3:22 PM_

Charlie called me.

He needs help baby-sitting.

Sounds like the house is being burned down.

Cautious.

_4:01 PM_

Rebecca Conway-Harding shares her brother's gene pool.

Loud, messy, and prone to tantrums.

Fulton's doing this stupid dance to shut her up.

I hate to tell the guy that it's not working.

Mainly because I'm videotaping.

This shit is so going on Youtube.

_4:28 PM_

I got her to shut up.

Charlie wants to know how.

Well, obviously, she's hot for my bod.

That, and she wanted her bottle.

But mainly the first one.

Self-congratulatory.

_8:37 PM_

Emily Parker's holding a thing tonight.

I can still go.

But do I want to?

_8:43 PM_

Christina walked in with Banksie Sr. in tow.

T-minus five seconds before clothes come off.

Emily Parker or sister doing the dirty?

Parker seems the lesser of two evils.

I'll need a ride.

_10:24 PM_

Some kids showed up at Parker's place.

They weren't invited.

Started macking it to Emily & Co.

The boys got mad.

There's going to be a fight.

_10:32 PM_

Riley's asking if I'm coming or not.

Forgotten how much this crew starts shit.

Riley slaps me in the face.

"You coming or you going to walk out that door?"

_Again._

The unspoken word.

You going to walk out that door…again?

He wants to know if I'm going to ditch him and the old crew again…like I did for the Ducks.

I'm coming.

* * *

_**Saturday, June 16**__**th**__**, 2007**_

_10:07 AM _

The knuckles on my right hand are bruised and bloody.

And I have a cut on my left cheek.

_10:13 AM_

I have a black eye too.

The other guy looked worse.

Satisfied. 

_1:38 PM _

Larson called.

Larson hasn't called since I was fourteen.

Guess last night's events have re-solidified my presence into that group.

Called me the man of the hour.

Well, duh.

I should be after I saved his skinny ass from being pummeled into oblivion.

That's where I got my black eye hence ruining my gorgeous face.

He invited me to another party tonight. At his place.

Pretentious cuntbag.

I hate Ridgewood kids.

_2:12 PM_

Riley called.

Don't like him.

He _slapped_ me last night.

Like a bitch.

I'm not his bitch.

He told me to stop whining and come to Larson's tonight.

Come to think of it, Riley's the reason my knuckles are split.

My drunken self had pulled off the guy mauling him and proceeded to introduce my fist to his face. Repeatedly.

Riley is the indirect source of the mutilation of my person.

_Really_ don't like him.

Riley called me a narcissistic prima donna.

And then hung up on me.

I _hate_ him.

_3:31 PM_

Maggot called.

It's 11:31 at night over there.

She sounds the same.

Happy, bubbly, overeager, sugary goodness.

God, I miss her.

_7:03 PM_

Dinner was not fun.

Mommy wanted to know why I felt I should engage in a fight.

Daddy wanted to know if I had won.

Christina told me that the purple really brought out my eyes.

Dumped my mashed potatoes onto her hair.

Got sent away from the dinner table.

Hungry.

_9:54 PM_

Connie called.

I was busy.

Quite literally.

I'll call her tomorrow.

_9:57 PM_

She left me a voicemail.

She sounds a bit…_irritated_ with me.

Well…what else is new?

Normal.

_10:31 PM_

Banksie's here.

Didn't know him and Larson were still friends.

But he's here, laughing it up with the kid…and not drinking.

Freak.

What's the point of coming to a booze party if you're not going to drink?

Guarded.

_10:42 PM_

He's watching me.

With the Angry-Banksie-Fishy eyes.

Unnerved.

* * *

_**Sunday, June 17**__**rd**__**, 2007**_

_2:34 PM_

Goldberg called.

Has an empty crib for the next few nights.

Party it up Jew-unit style.

His words, not mine.

_8:46 PM _

Kind of missed this.

Fulton's fun.

He can drink a lot.

_9:12 PM_

It's just boys.

No girls. Or Banksie.

Asked where Connie was.

Averman changed the subject.

_10:39 PM_

Five bottles of Johnny Walker have made an appearance.

This could potentially lead to disaster.

I live for danger.

Rebellious.

_11:18 PM_

Averman can sing.

He can _really_ sing.

He's like Aretha Franklin…but not black.

* * *

_**Monday, June 18**__**th**__**, 2007**_

_10:34 AM_

Woke up on Banks' lawn. Odd.

Can't remember last night. Not surprised. 

Charlie and Guy next to me. Creepy. 

Realized I'm naked. Indignant.

Realized _they're_ naked. Disgusted.

Sat up to see entire Banks family staring at us.

_Yikes_.

_11:00 AM_

I'm wearing Banks' clothes.

Just when I thought I could sink no further.

But it brings me to a good point.

Where are _my_ clothes?

_11:11 AM_

Banksie ain't happy.

We're in for it.

_11:35 AM_

He let me go.

He's yelling at Guy and Charlie but he let me go.

I don't get it.

It's not like him.

He's usually all for letting me have it.

Suspicious.

_2:01 PM_

Connie called again.

And mixed up in the sugary-sweetness that is her voice, is the clear undertone of pure, unadulterated _anger_.

She's been working as a waitress in a coffeehouse downtown.

She wants me to come over tomorrow.

Now I know why Adam let me off the hook.

I'm fucked.

* * *

_**Tuesday, June 19**__**th**__**, 2007**_

_10:01 AM_

Woke up.

Took extreme care in personal appearance so Connie won't have anything to complain about.

Not that anyone ever _does_.

But Connie's never really _normal_, you know?

_10:33 AM_

Just realized I don't have a ride.

I might live to see another day.

_10:42 AM_

Christina said she'll take me.

I'm going to die and no one cares.

_11:19 AM_

Maybe her car won't start.

_11:24 AM_

It starts.

_11:36 AM_

The coffeehouse is very…quaint.

Flowers everywhere, bright colors, tiled tables.

Connie would work here.

Damn hippie.

_11:37 AM_

Yes, she's angry.

Has pointed me to a table with a glare and a snarl.

She's nice to the other customers.

Guess that doesn't apply to me at the moment.

_11:43 AM_

There's four other people that work here.

The old married couple seems to own the place. And their mission is to fawn all over Mini-Duck.

The other waitress has curly brown hair and the hots for me. She keeps on looking over. Smug.

The waiter has the hots for Connie and is in desperate need of conditioner. I shall call him Stinkypoo and he shall be mine to taunt and ridicule for all eternity.

I don't like him.

_11:49 AM_

Guess I'm just supposed to sit here.

Connie hasn't spoken to me.

Or given me a menu.

Maybe she's planning on starving me into submission.

Kinky.

_12:01 PM_

Getting kinda hungry.

Maybe I'll ask Curly over there to bring me a sandwich.

_12:07 PM_

The order has been intercepted by Mini-Duck.

How do I know?

She's just slapped a bowl of soup on my table. Splashed it everywhere.

I told her I don't like soup.

Somehow she's mastered the Angry-Banksie-Fishy eyes. _So_ not a turn-on.

I ate the soup.

_12:14 PM_

Caught Stinkypoo looking at Connie's booty when she bent over.

Told her so.

She smacked me and shoved a muffin into my mouth.

Confused.

_12:15 PM_

Bet Stinkypoo would love to see Connie's muffins.

I said that out loud. Have been smacked again.

Choked on muffin.

Abused.

_1:27 PM_

So bored.

Just realized that I don't have a ride home.

Will have to sit here until Connie's shift ends.

I don't know when Connie's shift ends.

Boo, that whore.

_1:43 PM_

Stinkypoo is ugly.

That is all.

_1:57 PM_

Wonder how his life would have been different if he had been born good looking.

Curly gave me her number. She just graduated from Blake and is off to UCLA in the fall.

_2:02 PM_

Have gotten Curly's number confiscated.

Connie's evil.

Stinkypoo's evil germs have probably entered her system by way of osmosis.

He probably gets a secret grope in or two in the storage room.

He's old. Gonna be a junior at UMTC.

Pervert apparently has a thing for jailbait.

_2:13 PM_

Stinkypoo and Connie sitting in a tree…what are they doing, no one can see!

_3:00 PM_

HER SHIFT IS OVER! LET THE WORLD REJOICE!

Or judging from her expression…not.

_3:04 PM_

She's not happy with my behavior.

How do I know?

"Howard, your behavior has been absolutely atrocious and I will _not_ stand for it!"

_3:38 PM_

Amazing how someone so small can make you feel like the scum of the earth?

Then again, I knew I was scum before she told me.

But still…

_3:46 PM_

She's dabbing at her eyes with a napkin all the while preaching to me about responsible living. She's saying that she worries about me because of my recklessness and it's tearing her apart.

The tears are a very nice effect.

_3:48 PM_

Said I was sorry and that I won't do it again and to please stop crying.

Properly abashed.

_3:49 PM_

She immediately stopped crying.

Oh, she's good. She's really good.

_3:50 PM_

She's way too conniving to have gone out with Charlie.

"Oh, wonderful! Because I told Mr. Santorelli that you'd be helping us out for the next couple days! Now let me get you home so you can be up bright and early tomorrow!"

I _hate _her. With a passion.

I hope her and Stinkypoo make horrid children together.

_7:10 PM_

She told my parents about it.

They were only too happy to agree.

Everyone's out to get me.

* * *

_**Wednesday, June 20**__**th**__**, 2007**_

_6:31 AM_

I'm awake.

Connie's outside.

Kill me.

_10:07 AM_

I'm a Howard.

Howards don't _do _menial labor.

_1:47 PM_

Too tired to move.

Connie asked what's wrong.

Stinkypoo is making my eyes hurt.

Yech.

_3:00 PM_

Finally over.

Over.

Salvation.

_3:47 PM_

Connie took me to her house and is making me chocolate chip pancakes.

I like her again.

_9:32 PM_

Riley called.

Told him I'm going to bed.

I have to be up at 6:30 tomorrow, damn right, I'm going to bed.

Exhausted.

* * *

_**Thursday, June 21**__**st**__**, 2007**_

_9:27 PM_

I know how to clean tables, balance trays, make espressos and write the daily special on a chalkboard.

Also, if you cripwalk while clearing dishes, it gets you a better tip.

* * *

_**Friday, June 22**__**nd**__**, 2007**_

_10:18 AM_

Been here two days and everyone loves me.

Naturally.

After all…it _is_ me.

_1:34 PM_

Interesting development.

Stinkypoo cornered me in the stock room.

Wanted to know what my relationship to Connie was.

Told him I was her plaything because – as she is a lesbian, of course – she occasionally needs masculine stimulation which she can only achieve through acts of bondage and domination. And lucky for her, I'm into that sort of thing.

Giggles.

_6:02 PM _

Connie's making dinner for me and Averman.

She's an awfully good cook.

_6:47 PM_

Averman asked where her dad is.

He's away on business a lot apparently.

_7:13 PM_

Connie put on _Finding Nemo_ for me while she and Averman talked.

I'm not a baby.

I'm just watching it because I like the movie.

_7:49 PM_

Passed by a picture of Connie's mom on the way to the bathroom.

Looks just like her.

I didn't say anything.

* * *

_**Saturday, June 23**__**rd**__**, 2007**_

_6:41 AM_

I leave for Russia in two days!

_10:45 AM_

Stinkypoo is totally avoiding me and Connie.

Giggles squared infinity.

_1:47 PM_

Riley came for brunch.

Connie doesn't like Riley.

Riley doesn't like Connie.

Hyperventilating. 

_1:52 PM_

They've started.

Man, they are _vicious_.

_1:56 PM_

Connie punched him.

Straight in the jaw.

Girl can punch.

Impressed.

_3:00 PM_

Connie quit.

I had to quit too.

She's my ride.

* * *

_**Sunday, June 24**__**th**__**, 2007**_

_3:01 PM_

Sitting on my couch, seeing all these random people packing my stuff.

This is the life.

Mommy, Goldberg and Connie are fretting over how much food Maddie will need.

Daddy and Charlie are trying to zip a suitcase closed.

Guy and Tina are packing up my soccer shit to send to Sydney.

Fulton's trying to get everyone to sign a card.

Rotten Willy looks like he's going to keel over with envy.

Banks is sealing an enormous gift bag that I'm supposed to take to Maddie and only Maddie.

I'm starting to wonder about him. And more specifically, him and her…_together_.

Quite an unsettling concept.

Going to keep an eye on him.

* * *

_**Monday, June 25**__**th**__**, 2007**_

_9:30 AM_

On the plane.

Just realized I'm leaving Minneapolis for the summer.

Remind me to call Mommy when I land.

_11:18 AM _

My stewardess is unbelievably attractive.

_2:49 PM_

I have no idea what time it is and am incredibly cramped.

* * *

_**Tuesday, June 26**__**th**__**, 2007**_

_Who knows? It's daylight._

We're landing in an hour.

And then Maggot will be mine and all mine for the next three days.

_9:46 AM_

I see her.

She looks…skinny. Way too skinny.

But happy. So, so, so happy.

This is my best friend.

My beautiful, beautiful, beautiful best friend who loves me completely and unconditionally because I am the only man in her life and – wait…

_**WHO IS THAT **_**BOY **_**TOUCHING HER? **_

_10:02 AM_

He's Dimitri from Moscow. He's tall, blond, good looking and a perfect gentleman.

I absolutely _abhor_ him.

* * *

Hey, guys! It's been a while! Sorry, I've been swamped with work. Anyway, I hope you like this format. It's different and might be a little confusing so please let me know!

Have a great…uh, month, guys? Haha, peace outtttt.

**Jessiquie: **Hey, haha! Thanks for the review, I was like agonizing over the summary but I'm glad it was good!

**Truth-behind-your-lies:** Aww thanks! I'm so happy someone loves Dylan too. Thanks for reviewing!

**Torithy**: Lol, I just re-read the summary and wondered what I was smoking when I put that up. But I'm glad you liked it! Thanks for the review!

**Joanna**: Thanks, darling! You always have such nice things to say about me.

**Elmiragirl02: **Thank YOU for taking the time to read my stories. I'm so happy that you enjoy them!

**Cat:** Love. The. Fact. That. You. Love. Them.

**Honey: **Haha, I'm touched! And Dylan would probably be all over you!

**LoudandQuiet: **Ack, kind of made you wait for the next installment, didn't I? Sorry! Thanks for the review, it keeps me going!

**Flyinghawk: **Did you know I actually started tearing up when I read your comments? Thank you so much for your review and I'm so honored by your praise. 

**Crikee15:** Hey, yeah. Maddie's name has been changed, partly due to potential plot devices for the next series. But kudos to you for picking that up! Feel free to message me anytime!


	3. Chapter 3

_Disclaimer: Dylan is the product of my own delusions. His feathered friends are a product of Disney's._

– **The New Standard of Masculine Perfection –**

– _II. Adagio –_

* * *

_**Wednesday, June 27**__**th**__**, 2007**_

_10:43 AM_

Want to know a secret?

Last night, I was suffering from a major case of jetlag and couldn't sleep.

So I made out with Maddie's roommate.

Her name is Lucia and she's from Rome.

Bam!

I also did it while Maddie was sleeping in the other bed.

Double whammy!

_2:12 PM_

Have tried to get some time alone with Maggot.

Seems impossible.

Why?

Because Dmitri the Damned is everywhere.

_4:38 PM_

Realized he's keeping an eye on _me_.

Who the bloody Hell does he think he is?

_He's_ the usurper!

Asshole.

_7:17 PM_

Confronted her about situation.

They've hooked up.

Twice.

She's sleeping on the floor tonight.

Appalled.

* * *

_**Thursday, June 28**__**th**__**, 2007**_

_9:34 AM_

Maddie has rehearsal.

God damn, the girl's gotten ridiculously good.

She's killing it up there.

Guess she's been doing something productive with her life while I…what exactly _have_ I been doing?

Oh yeah.

Drinking, wenching, and other forms of debaucher-izing.

_10:04 AM_

Ew, it's Dmitri the Dimwit.

With his stupid, perfect pirouettes and stupid, perfect hair.

Narcissistic pig.

_11:30 AM_

The girls here are quite attractive.

And they all want to know about Maddie's American friend.

That would be me.

Smug.

_1:17 PM_

Met Maddie's teachers.

They adore her.

Naturally.

She is _my_ girl.

_7:29 PM_

We're going out for dinner.

Would be better if Dmitri the Douche didn't insist on accompanying.

I think he's more annoying than Banks.

Didn't think that was possible.

Confused.

_10:02 PM_

Have dubbed him the Russian Concussion.

And I officially despise him.

* * *

_**Friday, June 29**__**th**__**, 2007**_

_1:16 PM_

Have less than two days with Maggot.

She was mine first and I _don't_ share.

The Russian Concussion has got to go.

_4:25 PM_

Hand might have accidentally slipped eye drops into his soup.

Whoops.

He's going to need a lot of toilet paper.

_10:44 PM_

Clubs are loud.

Maddie's classmates are eyeing me.

She's just told them that I'm a nationally ranked athlete.

Too bad I only have time for one girl right now.

And besides…I've already gotten with two of them.

_11:28 PM_

Maggot's absolutely and adorably smashed off her ass.

And I'm well on my way.

See how much fun we can have when the Russian Concussion is out of the picture?

_12:13 AM_

Wants to know what's been happening in Minnesota.

She hasn't heard anything since she last talked to Banks.

Since when has she been talking to him?

Suspicious.

_12: 22 AM_

He Skypes her when time permits.

She's absolutely glowing while talking about Buttface Banks.

Becoming horrified.

_12:28 AM_

Asked her if she may have a tiny, insignificant crush on him.

_12:31 AM_

She may have a tiny, insignificant crush on him.

She's drunk. And delirious.

That answer doesn't count.

Please don't let it count.

* * *

_**Saturday, June 30**__**th**__**, 2007**_

_10:24 AM_

Maddie's hogging the bed.

I need more room.

Shoved her off.

Would you believe she slept through that as well?

_12:08 PM_

Last night's events have come into clear focus, along with my coffee.

Ready to slap her to her senses if her answer is the same as last night.

Because it's all for her own good, you know.

_12:13 PM_

She said no.

Thank God.

There will be no Banks/Maggot progenies running around stark naked in my mind anymore.

Relieved.

_1:11 PM_

Maggot has taken me shopping.

The things I do for this girl.

She accidentally sorted her pants into my pile of clothes.

_1:12 PM_

Apparently, those pants are meant for _me_ to try on.

Unsure.

_1:18 PM_

My balls are being crushed to an inch of their lives.

I don't think I can walk.

_1:26 PM_

Maddie thinks they look nice.

And with one swipe of that overused little platinum card of hers, I own a pair of skinny jeans.

I'm so embarrassed.

_1:28 PM_

Apparently, the Russian Concussion has a pair just like these.

My ego is not soothed.

_6:42 PM_

It's our last dinner together.

I leave for Sydney tomorrow.

She wants to know what I've been up to for the last month.

This will be pure shiatsu.

* * *

"I don't understand."

"What's there to understand?"

She leaned forward, her pretty face accentuated by the candlelight. "You mean to tell me that you've spent practically the last _month_ swilling cheap beer and _fornicating_?"

"Well, if you're going to put it like _that_."

"I just don't _get_ it. Why would you even want to do that?"

"Because I'm a hedonist." Dylan paused for a second, before shrugging. "Whatever."

"Oh that's just the kind of attitude I'm looking for." His best friend tossed her head scornfully. "Next thing you know, you'll be telling me you've been fighting again!"

There was an uncomfortable silence.

"Dylan!"

"They started it!"

"You promised you wouldn't fight anymore!"

Taking a bite of his steak, he looked at her earnestly. "I am but a weed in God's great garden of life. You are a rose. I must exist to show how lovely and perfect you are. _Together_, we provide balance."

"Oh, enough with the metaphorical bullshit!" Maddie threw her napkin down on the table and crossed her arms huffily.

"We're in public, Maggot…" He sang, knowing full well how irritating he was being. It was one of his many skills.

"Bite me! They don't even understand what we're saying."

Dylan poked at his food. "How're your vegetables? My steak's a little funky."

She scowled at him. "Don't change the subject. Connie actually let you get away with your behavior? _Adam_ let you get away with that behavior?"

"I don't want to talk about Banks with you! And, of course she didn't. She made me do menial labor for a couple days."

"Good, I hope you _suffered_, you great _pig_."

"Whoa there, easy with the name calling, babe. It was pretty bad at first, I dropped plates and mixed up orders…oh and then Stinkypoo! He's in a category all by himself, the gross little thing. He wanted to get with Connie. God only knows _why_-"

Maddie blinked. "Wait. You were a waiter? That's your idea of menial labor? A damn _waiter_?"

"If you can even call it that. I was everyone's bitch." He sniffed, barely listening to her. "The other waitress was pretty cute, though. I got her number but Connie confiscated-"

"You are unbelievable, you know that? Y-you-you…huge slut!"

"Says the girl who's been sucking face with the Russian Concussion." He shuddered distastefully, before leaning towards her, his silver eyes sparkling. "Think about it this way, Maggot, darling. I'm basically going to soccer boot camp for the next six to eight weeks. Just me and seventeen other guys, night and day. I needed to get all of this debauchery out of my system. You know, to serve as a buffer against the Hell I will be going through."

"Dylan Thomas Howard, you are the biggest, most delusional liar I have ever met."

* * *

_7:23 PM_

That went moderately well.

Not.

* * *

_**Sunday, July 1**__**st**__**, 2007**_

_6:04 AM_

So…it's six in the morning.

And I'm awake.

You ask why, my dear friend?

Well, I'm deciding what to do with my life.

And I'm at a complete impasse.

_7:59 AM_

So I've come to three options.

One: Keep on doing what I've been doing, not get caught and deal with the Russian Concussion.

Two: Deal with the Russian Concussion, then renounce debauchery and become a model American citizen.

Three: Deal with the Russian Concussion and then try not to get into any more trouble.

The more I think about it, Option Two is out of the question.

Option Three it is.

_9:37 AM_

I can't find any of my shit!

And I have to be at the airport in an _hour_.

If I can't find my other pair of jeans, I'll have to wear the _skinny_ jeans to Sydney.

_9:53 AM_

I'm not arriving at an internationally televised event wearing _skinny jeans_!

And now Maggot can't find her underwear.

UOGHALKDNSAGBJLKAD!!

_10:05 AM_

The whole hallway's watching the two crazy Americans run around.

Am I embarrassed?

Not as much as I would be showing up to meet my future teammates wearing _skinny jeans_!

_10:08 AM_

Found them!

They were behind Lucia's bed.

Awkward.

_10:11 AM_

Maggot can't find her bra.

I don't see why she _needs_ one.

It's not like she has much to hold up.

_10:49 AM_

We made it.

I'm not going to miss my flight.

Relieved.

_10:51 AM_

The Russian Concussion needs to be dealt with.

Showtime.

* * *

"Stop looking like your dog died. It'll just give the Concussion reason to try to fondle you."

"Don't worry, I won't let him. I miss Willy." She sighed forlornly, gazing up at him with big, sad eyes. "How's he doing?"

Letting out a dainty sniff at the mention of her beast of a Rottweiler, Dylan shoved his boarding pass into his back pocket and picked up his carryon bag. "Terrorizing everyone as usual. For some reason, he kind of likes Mom, though." He then caught a glimpse of a hated face in the background. "Maddie, darling, why don't you go to the bathroom?"

She blinked. "But I don't need to-"

"Yes, you do. Now run along." With that, he shoved her in the general direction of the restrooms and watched the Russian boy walk towards him with narrowed eyes. "Dmitri."

"Dylan." Unfortunately, even with his accent, the other spoke perfect English. "This was a…interesting visit. Good luck with your…what was it that you played again?"

"Soccer. Or football, to you Europeans." He answered easily, although his steel grey eyes were as cold as ice. "Yeah, this was a very _interesting_ visit. Nice to see Maddie's made some…friends."

Dmitri pursed his lips and gazed at the soccer player. "What exactly is the nature of your association with Madison?"

And that was the exact opening he had been looking for. Dylan barely kept from outright sneering at him. "You mean, _Maddie_, right?Cause the only time anyone calls her _Madison_, is when she's in a shitload of _trouble._"

"I feel that Madison is more dignified. _Maddie_ is too common a name."

"Funny. _I _don't think there's anything common about her. Anyway, Maggot's my baby girl. My partner in crime. My little darling. The Bonnie to my Clyde. Get it?"

"No." The dancer's tone was flat. "I don't think Madison was very clear about the nature of our relationship. I feel that it is in our best interests to clear that up."

"That's wonderful. I was thinking the same thing."

Dmitri smiled. "Wonderful. As long-"

"I'm glad you're stepping down, man. I know it's hard to take in but you've got to accept reality, you know?"

"_I beg your pardon_?"

"Maddie will date a trashy bastard like yourself over my dead body, you understand?" Dylan glared at him, all pretenses of a cordial relationship dropped. "Maggot understands how I feel and as I'm more important to her than you, she's going to be giving you the cold shoulder from now on."

"You've got a lot of nerve-"

"Listen, you pretentious dick," he snarled, his face an inch away from the other boy's. "I'm not going to lie, I'm scum. But scum can always pick out fellow scum. And I know that you're complete trash. You don't _deserve_ her so back the _fuck_ off!"

The Russian looked quite indignant. "I'll have you know that my family is practically nobility-"

"Oh, lah dee dah! Don't even think about bringing family into this because my Scotch ass will shit on yours! I repeat, back the fuck off because you don't _deserve_ her!" Dylan felt the blood of Highlanders flowing through his veins and saw sudden flashes of tartan before his eyes.

"And I suppose you do?"

"Oh, ew!" The soccer player shuddered. "That's like incest. But you raise an interesting point. Maggot is too good for your flat ass. She deserves a good, old-fashioned Midwestern boy, who votes and plays soccer and recycles and is an upstanding _American_ citizen…like Logan Spelling." He finished decisively before fixing the other boy with a sneer. "Face it, Dmitri, you've got no chance."

"You are amusing, Dylan." The Russian's tone spoke volumes. "But I believe it is _her_ choice, no?"

"Yeah, right. Like she has choices." Dylan snorted, shaking his shaggy blond hair out of his eyes. God damn it, why did the Concussion have to be so damn _tall_? It made him feel inferior! "Besides, you're not her type. She likes them tall, dark and handsome. You only fit _one_ of the criteria."

"That mouth of yours is going to get you in a lot of trouble one of these-"

Maddie chose to return at that moment. "I really don't see what the point of…what's going on?"

"Nothing." Dylan gave the Dmitri one last sneer before turning to his best friend. "We were just talking. Walk me to security?"

"Yeah, sure." Glancing at the fuming Russian curiously, she trotted towards her friend. "What'd you guys talk about?"

"Nothing. Hey, do you think you could swing down to Sydney after this thing's done? Maybe catch a couple of my games?"

"Probably not." She sighed, her face an abject mask of misery. "I think I end around the same time as you guys, if not later."

"Oh." The corners of his mouth tugging down, Dylan stopped at the checkpoint and turned to face her. "Well then. This is it. See you in September…I guess."

Suddenly, with a muffled wail, Maddie threw herself into her best friend's arms. "It's not fair!" She started to bawl. "You're leaving me all by myself while everyone else is in Sydney! I'm going to spend my birthday _alone_ while all of you are _together_!"

"Hey, hey. Easy there with the salt water." Dylan smoothed her hair as she continued to sob into his shirt. "It'll be okay. You'll have fun here and then go back to New York and party it up with those private school socialites you're friends with."

"_Were_." She hiccupped, pulling back to look at him with big, miserable eyes. "They don't talk to me anymore. The Ducks are all I have now, Dylan. Them and you. You're my only friends." She let out one last sniffle before straightening and smiling. "I'm being all silly, keeping you like this. You're going to miss your flight. You should get going."

Furrowing his brow, Dylan stared at her, his grey eyes going right through her cheerful façade. "You going to be okay?"

"Yeah!" Maddie beamed at him tearfully. "I'll be fine. I just miss all of you…a lot. Don't worry about me, concentrate on soccer." She absently reached out to fix his collar as her lower lip started to tremble again. "Work hard and make me proud, Dylan. Don't let me down."

A rather unknown feeling started to swirl around in his body. Was it…could it be…shame? He swallowed and managed to croak out an answer. "I will. I promise."

"I'm holding you to that. Now go get 'em, tiger." Her grin stood in sharp contradiction to the tears that openly ran down her face. "Tell the girls that I love them. And tell Charlie to take it easy, he'll probably be throwing a fit by the second period. Oh! And tell Averman that I bought him these really sweet new glasses off the black market. And tell Banks-"

The shame and melancholy that had previously engulfed his psyche immediately evaporated. "Why do I have to tell Banks anything?" He whined, shaking his blond hair out of his eyes. "And what's with this whole _Me-and-Banks-total-BFFs_ thing you got going on recently?"

And he was back to his dear, old, petty self.

"What about it?"

"It's _weird_!"

"How is that weird?"

"He wears _sweater vests_!"

She rolled her eyes. "You know what, never mind. You're really going to miss your flight if you don't hurry." She reached up to give him a kiss. "I love you. Listen to Connie. Try not to antagonize Julie. And don't flush when she's in the shower, it's really annoying."

He wrapped his arms tightly around her in one last hug. "She likes it." He hesitated before barging on. "I told Dmitri to back off! If you really like him then whatever but I think he's a prick and he's no good for you but I guess it's up to you in the end even though you really suck at making decisions and I'm smarter than you in stuff like this…"

Blinking, Maddie tried to comprehend the run-on sentence that had just been thrown at her. She then gave him a halfhearted grin. "We've had this discussion. There's nothing going on, don't worry."

"I know. I'll be seeing you soon." Beaming, Dylan brushed a kiss onto her forehead and resolutely walked to the scanners. That was his girl, alright.

As he got in line, he took a look back over his shoulder. Maddie stood there morosely as a smug Dmitri walked over and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. Shaking his head, the soccer player placed his shoes and laptop into a tray on the conveyer belt.

Then, as he was about to go through the sensor, Dylan smirked. Swiftly turning around, he hollered to his girl. "Yo, Maggot! Who's your daddy?"

She let out a teary sniffle but didn't bat a lash at the odd question. "You are."

_Beat that_, Dylan sniffed daintily as he cheekily blew a kiss to a scowling Dmitri.

* * *

**Sunday, July 1****st****, 2008**

_1:30 PM_

Location: Sydney International Airport.

Atmosphere: Irritably sunny.

Purpose: To get through customs.

Likelihood of that happening: Dismal. I have no idea what anyone's saying.

_1:37 PM_

Likelihood of surviving the Aussie underworld: Much, much, much more bright.

Why you ask?

Because Julie Gaffney has just stepped off the escalator.

And…Portman is walking down the staircase to my immediate left.

Yikes.

Collision time: approximately six seconds.

* * *

"Dylan!"

"Jule-face! Thank God you're here!"

"What did you do-"

"Julie?"

"What-"

"Well, would you look at that, it's Portman!"

"…I can see…"

"Portman, buddy! How's the Windy City? Now-"

"It's good…hey, Jules."

"Hey-"

"Everything okay?"

"Yeah, um, I just saw Dylan here-"

"Hello? Jules?"

"Yeah, small world, right?"

"No kidding."

"Hello? Remember me?"

"How's your summer been?"

"Good, good. Yours?"

"Uh, guys?"

"Can't complain."

'Well-"

"Yeah, um-"

"Someone has to get me through customs!" The soccer player suddenly howled in frustration.

"I'll do it!" The two answered simultaneously.

Smiling a bit forcedly, Julie tucked a blond lock of hair behind her ear. "Don't worry about it. I got it under control." _He has no right to look this good stepping off a 17-hour flight_, she thought mutinously, eyeing his airy white T-shirt and crisp, stonewashed jeans. Dean Portman should have been a model for the Gap.

Running a hand through his newly cut hair, Portman nodded just as awkwardly. "A-alright. Um, I'm supposed to meet Ken. His flight lands in a couple of minutes. Gate 37, I think. So I guess I'll go…"

"Wait, why don't we just come with you – Owwww…or not." Dylan winced as Julie's strong fingers suddenly pinched a particularly tender patch of skin on his side. He smiled at the Chicago native weakly. "Go ahead. I'll see you soon."

"Yeah. Take care, man." Portman then turned to Julie and smiled slightly. "You look good, Gaffney. It's always been your best color. I'll see you at practice." And slipping on his aviators, he gave her one last smile and walked away.

_He did not just say that_. _Why did he have to say that?_

Unaware that her eyes were suddenly teary, she absently smoothed the front of her lavender floral sundress and stared at the retreating figure. "You know…you think you know a person and you're fine. You understand him. You understand what to expect from him. And then he comes out with something like that…and all your understanding…all your expectations are thrown out the window." She turned to look at the slightly bewildered soccer player. "Am I right?"

"Uh," Dylan smiled at her weakly. "That dress makes your tits look nice?"

The corner of her mouth gave a traitorous twitch. "Well, at least _you're_ consistent." Laughing, she linked her arm in his. "Come on, let's get you through customs."

"Oh, thank you. I have no idea what they're saying-"

Nodding and laughing to her friend's whining, Julie nonetheless glanced towards the direction of Gate 37, wishing for one last glimpse of a tall, broad shouldered hockey player.

* * *

_10:37 PM_

So I met my teammates.

And I'm very close to hyperventilating.

I know half of them from various soccer camps.

And let's just say, I've become acquainted with their girlfriends, sisters, cousins, etc.

I'm _fucked_.

_11:13 PM_

My roommate: Jacob Matthew Riley

Thank goodness.

At least I won't be murdered in my sleep.

He thinks I'm being a paranoid nancy-boy.

We'll see who's the paranoid nancy-boy when Connie comes to visit and decks him one again.

* * *

**Monday, July 9****th****, 2007**

_8:24 PM_

This past week has been torture.

Wake up, train, eat, train, eat, train some more, shower, be interviewed, eat, sleep.

Yippee.

Not.

_9:17 PM_

Does everyone have a secret hero/be-all-that-you-can-be complex except me?

Owen was volunteering at an athletics camp for disabled children before he came here.

Brighton's just come back from a semester in Ghana, helping fight AIDs or what-not.

Johnson's future dream _is _to find the cure for AIDS.

Chang won this national essay competition. And he donated all his prize money to Amnesty International.

Walden is debating to take a year off from college and do Teach-for-America or something.

At least Riley's not the charitable type.

_9:22 PM_

Okay, so he is. Riley's just spent the last month volunteering in the hospital's lab.

You know what? I beat all of them.

I save orphans from burning buildings.

_9:38 PM_

Who am I kidding?

That doesn't count.

* * *

**Wednesday, July 11****th****, 2007**

_12:04 PM_

I saw Rivera and Nick just now.

She's cut her hair.

Like all of it. It's up to her chin now.

It looks good on her.

She kind of smiled at me. And held up a hand. She kind of smiled at me and held up a hand.

Christ.

* * *

He was a man with a mission. He was a man with a mission. He was a man with – oh, hello, Brazil.

The dark-haired beauty gave him a coy smile as she walked by, the Brazilian flag displayed proudly on her warm-up suit. An appreciative gleam in his eyes, Charlie Conway sought out the sport she was in. "I love gymnastics." He muttered, still following the figure.

He was then distracted by a flash of blonde hair. "Oh, crap! Carmen! Yo, Carmen! Wait a – ow!" The pavement was introduced to his face as his feet tangled around each other.

The blonde girl turned around with a harried smile. "Hey, Charlie. Hold on a second." She then frowned and put a finger on her headset. "I don't care if they're stalling! Strap them down and force it out of them! Hell, give them a bloody nose if you have to! If they don't take the drug test, they're not playing! And you can tell them that it's a promise! Now get on it!" She turned to the boy sprawled out on the sidewalk. "Sorry about that."

"It's cool." Wincing, Charlie gingerly got up. "You look scarily…corporate." His nose wrinkled at her power suit and headset. "Maybe it's the hair. You look like a classier cross between Posh Spice and Rihanna." He snickered as his hand went out to touch her new choppily layered bob.

Carmen smacked his hand away impatiently. "As lovely as your commentary is, I doubt your reason for coming to find me has to do with your views on my hair. What's up?"

Charlie blinked. Oh right. Man with a mission.

"Yeah," he quickly fumbled through his bag. "I don't like our uniform."

She stared at him.

"I mean, don't get me wrong. It's cool. Very chic. I guess. But it's not…_us_."

"It's not _us_." Carmen repeated, her eyes starting to glow a dangerous shade of amber. "I see. Does the rest of the team share your opinion?"

"W-well, I-I don't know. I'm pretty sure…that they do…" He trailed off as her eyes narrowed. _You've gone and done it now, pretty boy_, a voice inside of him snickered. "It's just…we're the Ducks, you know? And there's nothing about the Ducks on this. And I mean, I kind of understand about the color scheme but-"

"The color scheme." Carmen placed a tiny hand on her tiny waist. Charlie wasn't fooled. There was nothing tiny about the size of her temper. "Charlie…what country are you a citizen of?"

"The US-"

"What are the colors of the US flag?"

"Red, white and blue-"

"And don't you think that if you're representing your country in an _international_ competition, you should wear your country's colors?"

"Well, I-I guess so-"

"So do you think the _color scheme _is pretty appropriate?" She practically snarled, poking him in the chest.

"Yes but-" Charlie smiled at her winsomely albeit tremulously, holding up the jersey. "Can't you humor me, Car? It's so…bare."

"Y-you-" She took a deep breath. "We were able to get some of the top designers in the US to design the uniforms. _Michael Kors_ designed the jerseys for USA Hockey. Do you know who Michael Kors is?"

"No." His nose wrinkled. "But I bet it's something Banks would wear."

Carmen's eye suddenly twitched. "Charlie, Iceland refuses to take the drug test, the Italians are hitting on everything that moves, no one understands what the French are saying and Britain's coach has been puking for the past day and a half-"

"Oh yeah, that's my fault." Charlie shrugged apologetically and sought to explain. "Well, it was kind of an accident. I originally meant for-"

"Whatever you tell me can and will be used against you so shut up now." Carmen glared at him. "Remember how stressed I was back at school?"

"Who can forget?" He grinned in memory.

"I've just reached a new level of it."

Charlie looked skeptical. "Oh. Is that even possible?"

Just then, Carmen's walkie-talkie gave a crackle. "Miss Rivera, the coach of the US basketball team would like a word."

"What does he want? I'm not responsible for the basketball division!" She snapped into her headset before turning to face Charlie. "_Goodbye_."

He frowned. "Does that mean no to new jerseys? Carmen? Ow! You don't have to bloody throw stuff!"

– _Three days later –_

"Excuse me, I'm looking for a Mr. Charles Conway?"

Slipping a shirt over his head, Luis looked over at the speaker. "Oh, yeah. Hold on a sec. Ay, Charlie! Someone here to see you!"

Charlie walked out of the showers, a towel slung low around his hips and rubbing his damp hair with another towel. Completely shameless about his state of undress, he ambled over to the man. "I'm Charlie Conway."

The man held out a box. "Package for you, Mr. Conway. Just sign here, please."

"Yeah, thanks." He nodded at the postman before bringing the box over to his locker.

Adam looked up at him, comb in his hand. "Who's it from?"

"Doesn't say. Please don't part your hair, Banksie. It makes you look like a pedophile." Charlie muttered absently as he tore open the box. Taking out a note, he recognized Carmen's neat handwriting.

_Conway, _

_I hope you know that you're an insufferable little brat. Have Connie iron them onto your sleeves. _

_-Carmen_

_Oh, and dinner at my place on the 13__th__. Take a bath before you show up._

His heart soaring, he peeked into the box. Picking up a patch, he beamed at the duck shaped hockey mask, complete with two crossed hockey sticks underneath it in a skull and crossbones motif. "Love you too, Car."

* * *

**Friday, July 13****th****, 2007**

_3:39 PM_

Connie and Julie came by while I was in the shower.

The team is quite enamored with them.

I know. Ew much?

Dinner tonight at Carmen's apartment. Figures it would be on Friday the 13th.

_6:43 PM_

Ghana Boy seems to find Connie absolutely breath-taking.

And Mr. Cure-for-AIDS wants to know who the Asian girl in all my photos is.

"Are all your friends this hot?"

Gag me.

* * *

Stepping inside the elevator, Ken Wu checked his watch. Crap, he was late.

He anxiously watched the numbers change as they ascended the luxury apartment building. Coach Bombay had really gone all out for Carmen. But then again…he had probably also saved a ridiculous amount of money by hiring her. God only knew that she was the equivalent of a four-person staff.

The bell tinged as a number 12 lit up.

Whistling slightly, he stepped down the hallway until he came to 12D and rang the doorbell. It opened almost immediately and a harassed looking Guy Germaine waved him in. "It's utter madness."

Ken blinked. "I can see."

Indeed, the chic apartment was fairly bursting with Team USA Hockey, their Director's PA, a rather morose looking soccer player, and a laughing little boy. Weaving past Charlie and Averman who were building a castle out of toothpicks and cheese cubes, he ran into a flash of blonde hair. "Jules!"

"Ken!" Her eyes lit up as she bounced over to him. "What happened? I thought you'd be here ages ago! And where's Portman and Fulton?"

"I got side-tracked by a cute little Australian. And they're still being side-tracked by two members of Germany's volleyball team. I don't think they're going to be able to make it." He grinned before noticing her face fell slightly at the news of Portman's disappearance. "You look as pretty as a picture. Give me a twirl, girlie!"

Laughing, Julie spun around so her yellow sundress flared out. "Why, thank you, Mr. Wu. You look pretty dashing yourself."

"I do try, ma'am." Ken grinned, before brandishing a bouquet of white lilies. "Now where's our hostess? I got her a little something."

"I'd better put them in water." The goalie smiled, jerking her head over to his left. "She and Banks are having a bit of a scuffle."

Following her gaze, Ken saw Carmen and Adam in the midst of an argument. The shapely blonde and Adam were at it neck and neck and neither looked ready to back down. He leaned in a bit closer to hear what was going on.

"-absolutely not!"

"Who do you think you are, telling me what I can or can not do? I don't even listen to my mother!"

"Your mother's insane."

"Obviously. However, you still don't have any authority over me!"

"You're underage!"

"We're in Australia and I'll be eighteen in a few months!"

"But you're underage as of this moment!"

She stamped her foot in fury. "You don't scare me, Banks!"

"And over my dead body are you bringing any into this place!"

"It's my apartment!"

"Carmen, I will take you over my knee and spank you right here and right now." Adam threatened, his blue eyes flashing. "Don't think that I won't!"

"Aargh!" She screamed in frustration, spinning on her heel and storming away.

The hockey player glared after her. "And change your dress! Did you let Averman pick it out again? You're practically spilling out of it."

"Banks, you can just-"

Ken blinked and resolutely blocked out the string of epithets that erupted from the girl's mouth. "What are they going on about, anyway?"

"Alcohol." Guy ambled over and handed him a Coke. "Carmen wanted alcohol – no, said she _deserved_ alcohol after the week she's had – and Banks put his foot down. He seems to think she needs some sort of guidance in her life."

"Does he have a death wish?" Raising an eyebrow, Ken took a swig of his soft drink. "Where's our other girl?"

Guy made a face. "The kitchen. _You_ can go see her. I'm not stepping near that place."

"What? Why?"

"Words can't even _begin_ to describe. I'll be over there with Dwayne…where it's _safe_. Godspeed." Tipping his glass to the Asian boy, Guy walked away.

Feeling a bit apprehensive, Ken edged over to the kitchen and witnessed another full-fledged fight happening. Her fuchsia sheath dress carefully covered by a large apron, Connie waved a ladle threateningly in an equally livid looking Goldberg's face.

"-touch my vinegar!"

"What would you know? It'll obviously taste better with sesame oil!"

"Not with the frisée! Give me back my red wine!"

"Your taste buds are so bourgeois!"

"Says the boy making Bagel Bites!"

"It's _bruschetta_! It's Jarlsberg and bruschetta!"

"Oh please, it's the stuff of amateurs!"

"I hope you choke on your tagliarini!"

"They've been going at it for at least an hour now." Ken turned to see little Nick Hunt stare at the scene in slight bewilderment. "I really would prefer a hamburger but…" He shrugged before turning to the hockey player. "Would you like some cheese and crackers?"

Noticing the current argument had deteriorated into quite the lesson in profanity, Ken hastily steered the young boy away. "Yeah, that sounds great. How've you been, kiddo?"

"Great!" He answered enthusiastically, bouncing on the soles of his feet. "I met Andy Roddick a couple days ago! And Federer might be coming near the end of the Games! And Carmen lets me stay at the courts as long as I want-"

"Yo, Nicky boy! There you are, I was looking all over for you!" Charlie Conway picked up the child easily. "Sorry, Ken Doll, I'm going to need to borrow this one for a second. We need some more olive oil for our moat and there's no way I'm walking into the kitchen by myself."

"Knock yourself out, Charlie." Ken grinned and watched them go. Then turning back to the scene of chaos, he sighed in resignation at his plight. His eyes then landed on a solitary figure outside on the balcony. With a slight frown, he walked towards him.

The fresh, breezy air was a nice change from the chatter and jumble inside. Ken breathed deeply. "Nice night, isn't it?"

Dylan turned around. "Ken. What up, man? How've you been?" He smiled and clapped his hand.

"I've been okay. Training is brutal, isn't it?" The San Francisco native leaned against the railing and admired the magnificent view of Sydney in front of them. The Harbour Bridge provided a backdrop to the Sydney Opera House which was a vision in white against the night sky.

"Tell me about it." The soccer player sighed and looked out into the water. Ken watched him out of the corner of his eye. The blond seemed unusually quiet and…well, for a lack of a better word, _depressed_. He was still as handsome as ever but there was an overwhelming sense of melancholy surrounding him. He suddenly turned around. "What did you do before you came to Sydney?"

Ken blinked. "Nothing, really. I mean, I checked my stocks. Oh and I gave little kids figure skating lessons for a bit."

"Oh. That's cool. How much did you get paid?"

"Well…I didn't. I volunteered to do it. My way of giving back to the community, you know?"

Dylan's shoulders sagged. "Oh, of course."

"Yo, Howard, what's the mat-"

"There y'all are!" The two turned to see Dwayne step onto the balcony. "What are y'all doing out here? The party's inside."

"Hello, Dwayne." Dylan slumped onto the railing. "Maybe I should just jump." He mused bitterly, eyeing the drop.

The Texan's eyes widened. "Is he alright?" He whispered anxiously. "Maybe he got too much sun today."

"Dwayne!"

"Yes, sir!"

"What did you do this summer?" The blond's voice was almost desperate. "Before you came here?"

"Just lounged around the house, really. Helped Pa with the horses and uh…" He scratched his head. "Oh, Allie came to visit! I took her over to Morton Ranch, actually. One of the finest cattle ranches in the country! Anyway, Mr. Morton had a stroke so he ain't doin' too well and he's always been real good to our family. So I went over and helped out with the livestock and Allie pottered around in the kitchen. Old man Morton sure took a liking to her-"

"Whoa, back up. Back the fuck up." Dylan raised a hand in disbelief. "Allie? As in Allegra Howard? My cousin? _She_ helped out on the ranch too? Free of charge?"

"Well, yeah. She was cooking for Mr. Morton night and day and not a single word of complaint!" Dwayne beamed, obviously proud of his girlfriend.

His mouth a haggard line, the soccer player stepped back from the railing. "Listen, guys. I got to go. Make my excuses, will you?"

"Dude, we haven't even had dinner! What's wrong?"

"I'm not feeling too well." Dylan ran a hand through his constantly tousled hair. "I'm sorry, man. Maybe some other time. Your game's on Tuesday, right?"

"Yeah but-"

"I'll be there. Have fun tonight."

The two boys stared at the retreating figure in disbelief. Dwayne turned to Ken, a worried gleam in his dark eyes. "He's going to be alright…isn't he?"

"I don't really know what just happened now." Ken admitted, shaking his empty soda can absently. "Come on, let's go inside. It's kind of cold."

* * *

**Friday, July 13****th****, 2007**

_10:38 PM_

Today, I came to the realization that I am a complete and utter stain on humanity.

And let me tell you…it's the worst feeling in the world.

* * *

I just realized it's been like half a year since I've updated! I'm so sorry! I hate it when writers do that to me and then I just realized that I'm one of them. In my defense, I've been sick and then my boyfriend almost got deported back to the UK. I don't even want to know how that happened.

Bear with me, guys, there's only one chapter left of this story so I'll try to finish this and GP before September!

And to those of you who continue to review and send me messages, thank you. A huge, huge thank you and an even bigger hug from me.

Love and kisses, Donuthole

* * *

**Jas120: **Oh thank goodness you do! Thanks for bearing with me!

**ratti pillo: **You are a light in my dark, dark world, my darling! Thank you for your kind words and support. It is much appreciated but I'm sure you already know that!

**guessgirl:** I'm so happy that you like Dylan. I've been told that I focus too much on my OCs and it's always been a tender point for me. But thank you for your support! It means a lot!

**nikkiloola: **I'm glad I was able to make you laugh! I'm much better at it than making people cry. Anyway, thank you for your review and sorry for the long wait!

**Cat:** Oh boy, do I know about long days. And oddly enough, I've realized that Dylan shares many personality traits with my ex-boyfriend. Yikes? Maybe. Thanks for the review, sweetie!

**Torithy: **Stinkypoo is my favorite. He has this special place in my heart and I'm sure he has one in yours as well. Haha, thank you for reviewing and thank you for your constant support!

**crikee15:** I was going to make it entirely from Dylan's point of view but then what about my other Duckies? Banksie and Maddie? Maybe? I'm so sorry for keeping you waiting but thanks for sticking by me!

**wildchild: **Okay, no joke, when I read the first part of your comment, I cringed, expecting it to be a flame. But you liked it! And that made my heart sing. Of course, there's going to be more Jules Gaffney! She's Dylan's favorite plaything, haha.

**flyinghawk:** I think Dylan prefers to call him the Russian Concussion. Oh and about the format? Trust me, writing it was just as difficult. So I cheated this time. Can you forgive me? Thank you for reviewing, darling!

**the Crane of Fire & Chica: **Okay, so I didn't really have any set celebrities in mind when I made my OCs. They kind of strolled into my head, fully formed. Then, I stumbled across Alex Pettyfer, this British actor, and thought _Oh my God, that's Dylan_ right there. Look him up, I'm sure you'll agree! As for Carmen and Maddie? They don't really have famous faces attached either. Maddie's basically based on this gorgeous Asian girl that lives in my dad's building. I have a total girl-crush on her, lol. Thank you for reviewing though!

**awtr101fan:** Aww, thanks! Everyone's stressed right now and well, it's high school. Everyone's allowed to be a little stupid in high school. Thank you for reviewing, though! It's so appreciated.


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